Despot: The True Picture of a Ruler
by TheNotSoTalentedPoet
Summary: A/U. Zuko had claimed it all, but at what cost? Was being Fire Lord worth all that he had sacrificed, and all that he was about to undergo? Zuko is far too disconnected to care. Pro-Bending Circuit Season 2 submission.


**Despot: The True Picture of a Ruler**

 **Competition:** Pro-Bending Circuit Submission for Round 3

 **Word Count:** 1,717

 **Prompts Used:**

 **Colors:**

 **Green** \- growth, life, jealousy,  disgust **Black** \- darkness, evil, mysterious,  alone **Gold** \- luxury, abundance, wealth,  achievement

• (word) colourful

• (restriction) No dialogue

* * *

There were many things dancing around in Zuko's mind. Thoughts of love, peace, friendship, and directly following them a sense of bitter shame and regret. The young Fire Lord's scowl was even more prominent than his horribly scarred face. The cause of that expression of frustration and annoyance was surprisingly simple when one got to the root of it all.

His pencil was missing.

He was a grown man, at least in the eyes of the people of the Fire Nation, and he was beyond frustrated at a missing writing and drawing utensil. Clearly, he was a picture of someone without any real and looming problems or worries. A simple matter such as him not being able to find something was all it took to incur his ire and make the flames surrounding the throne he slouched upon rise with an energy and strength that rivalled even his father's.

All so he could sketch of a turtle duck.

Truthfully, he would have better served himself by going into one of the Palace Gardens to be able to look at one whilst drawing the splendid creature. It would certainly turn out far better than if he relied on his admittedly shaky memory. There was no doubt that if he sat in the lush, green gardens of the Palace, he would be inspired to add more detail, and to make it more colorful. He even knew the best spot to relax and observe the little creatures that were one of the only things that gave him happy thoughts. It was a place so ingrained in his fondest childhood memories. One of the few things he could feverishly grasp when he needed to feel the warmth of the happy child he hadn't for so very long. There was only one problem with situating himself there.

It would bring back memories of his mother.

Ursa always invoked a cavalcade of mixed and frenzied emotions within the Fire Lord. Sometimes the thought of her sweet, caring voice and the memory of her arms wrapped around him, bathing him in maternal warmth could raise a contented smile from the lips of the dour man who ruled uncontested. Yet at other times, he felt the cold, unyielding truth seep into his very soul. After all that he had done, everything and everyone he had shoved down into the black abyss, there was one little doubting reminder that served to drag him down into that same abyss.

She would be disgusted with him.

Truthfully, deep down inside of him, below the layers of misanthropy, the recluse known as Zuko was just as disappointed in himself as his mother would have felt if he knew where she was. If he really desired to, he knew he could send troops and agents to go search through all of the Nations in an effort to find her, and if she still drew breath, they would inevitably succeed, but Zuko never gave that order. Why bother, after all? Why would he seek out somebody who would adamantly voice their disapproval of his actions? His mind was already troubled enough as it was, so there was no point to increasing the burden placed upon it.

While Zuko sat contemplating these numerous questions that sprung up far too often for him to really even care at this point, he though back to when it all began; the impetus of his current state of self-pity as he sat cloaked and shrouded in barely flickering flames.

The day he killed his father.

* * *

 ***Flashback***

* * *

Zuko breathed as calmly as he was physically capable of breathing. The scenario he had thrust himself into would require clarity and peace of mind if he wished to escape with his life. Despite his tension, he knew that he had chosen the optimum moment to strike. No-one would know just who had crept in like a thief in the night and dispatched their ruler.

He heard footsteps coming from the entrance to the room, and slipped further into the shadows. His eyes settled into a squint as he peered at the doorway to se Ozai step into his room in the underground bunker. The Avatar would be here soon, they knew, so the Fire Lord thought it best to hide away during the eclipse so as not to be overpowered when all Firebenders were left weak and helpless. Little did he know of the plan that Zuko had in store for him.

Armed with naught but a few daggers and his twin Dao swords, Zuko knew that the job had to be swift and clean. If everything he had meticulously planned down to the last detail went awry, then the swords would prove to be a phenomenal equalizer, but Zuko desired to end things far quicker than use of those marvelous weapons would allow.

Ozai had sat down, still maintaining an air of arrogance and that was proudly displayed all over his face. This smug and self-assured countenance even whilst he was cowering in a hole to escape the wrath of a twelve year old boy sickened Zuko, and it further bolstered his resolve to remove that aura of conceited imperiousness from the face of the great and mighty Ozai.

This was the man who gave him the basted reminder of his loss of honor, the man who saw fit to horrifically scar the face of a child. The man who used fear and fire to bully the downtrodden, and the man who was responsible for Zuko's loss of honor.

His mind reached a state of absolute clarity. He knew what he had to do. A deed that would benefit all of the Nations of the world; the Avatar wouldn't have to get his hands dirty at all. Desperation and a thirst for vengeance fueled this bold endeavor. As he felt his inner fire fading from the oncoming eclipse, Zuko struck.

In a flash, he flung two of his daggers at the candles that lined the back wall, and they were instantaneously extinguished. Zuko wasted no time rushing put after they flew forward, drawing another of the daggers he wielded. When the light was snuffed out, he heard Ozai gasp in shock, and he heard his frantic footsteps as swiveled back and forth, trying to find some kind of light, but all there was around him was blackness. Thankfully Zuko knew exactly where he stood.

There was no ceremony when it happened. In fact, the end result was rather anticlimactic. The thin blade was plunged between the Fire Lord's ribs with uncanny precision, and Ozai's last sounds were but gargles as he choked on his own blood. He feverishly grasped the air around him, searching for something to grab ahold of. His hands came up completely empty.

Zuko felt a rush of deep satisfaction as he heard the slow and steady drips as the blood that painted his dagger dripped onto the floor. Even though the room was blacker than the inside of a box on a moonless night, he could see it all in his head: the fallen leader sprawled on the floor, mouth agape with blood trickling out the sides, and the horrified expression of someone who had just realized that their time had run out, and then had their hubris ripped uncaringly from them.

All these signs and emotions would lie on the man that had burned him forever. The man who, in the very last few moments of his life, now knew what a death without honor truly felt like. Ozai had not parted from this world like a warrior, exhausted and slain in battle by a worthy opponent, and nor had he lived to a ripe old age and passed peacefully in his sleep. Ozai's was a death completely lacking in dignity and honor, which was the ultimate slap in the face to the legacy of a man so consumed by power and pride.

Coming to his senses after that little self-indulgent thought spree, Zuko quickly ran out of the door, and made his way to one of the spots in the bunker where magma pooled and flourished. Dropping his hands to his knees and panting for a few brief seconds, he took the dagger that had pierced the flesh and claimed the life of the former Fire Lord, and flung it into the bubbling and searing magma, where it was promptly melted and congealed into just another part of the mass of molten liquid before him. It was almost symbolic, in a way.

* * *

 ***End flashback***

* * *

Despite all of that, Zuko knew that that wasn't the end of it. The Avatar had been seen in the Fire Nation during the failed invasion of the Capital. The knowledge that Zuko had failed to vanquish the one person who could defeat them set the most ardent of Ozai's supporters aflame with righteous anger. After all, Aang was being blamed for assassinating Ozai, which meant that Zuko had indirectly caused the death of their ruler. Zuko only mentioned that it was all a ploy by Azula to shrug the blame off onto him in case the decisive blow she had struck turned out to not be so decisive, and shortly thereafter, she was imprisoned in the very facility where Iroh had been held.

He knew she wouldn't be held forever, though.

She was far too clever and resourceful to be held anywhere for long. Sooner or later she would break out and attempt to claim the throne for herself.

Thankfully, that's exactly what Zuko was counting on.

The arrival of Sozin's Comet was nigh, and Zuko was certain that she would mount her escape during it. Unfortunately, he had planned ahead.

Zuko wouldn't be anywhere near the Palace when the Comet hit.

He was going to use the Comet's power to finally take down the Avatar.

The loyalty of his people hinged on him finally completing his initial mission and ridding the world of that Airbending scum. Even when he was on top, he still had to regain his honor. The day was drawing ever nearer, and Zuko felt the looming weight of it crushing him oh so slowly.

Here he sat; a despot; the true picture of a ruler. He had finally found his pencil, and Zuko began to draw. It was his only peace of mind.

* * *

 **A/N: I really should stop waiting so bloody late to do these, but at least my excuse is that the prompts I claimed were snatched up by someone else.** **Still, I really like how this turned out, and I would love to hear any feedback, particularly at how well I conveyed emotion without dialogue.**

 **Read, review, and I'll see ya next time.**

 **-TheNotSoTalentedPoet**


End file.
